Loving Bailey (16 page)

“Probably,” she said, so grateful when he
turned down the long drive to the farm. She blew out the breath she
hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” He
sounded uncertain and she couldn’t stand that.

“God no.”

She unfastened her seat belt and slid across
the seat to him, resting her hand on the flat plane of his stomach.
She felt his muscles tighten under her palm and bit her lip,
wanting to bite his instead but not willing to cause a wreck in the
driveway. Instead, she nuzzled the warm skin behind his ear,
letting her face rub over the sandpaper stubble on his jaw and
inhaling the sharp clean scent of bergamot and man. He smelled like
her morning tea and all the best things she could imagine.

“Jesus, Bailey.” He slammed the truck into
park and flung open his door, jumping to the ground and then
reaching up for her. She slid into his arms, clutching his
shoulders, and he groaned in pleasure. “Wrap your legs around me,”
he said, his voice rough with need. “Please, baby. Hold onto
me.”

She did what he asked, wrapping her legs
around his waist and clinging to his neck. He palmed her bottom,
holding her up and hauling her closer and she felt the hard ridge
of denim press against her hot, wet core.

Trace bumped the truck door closed and
carried her the few feet to his front door, every step pulling her
climax closer. God, if he kept this up, she was going to come
before they made it inside. She locked her heels and bit his
shoulder and then he was reaching for the door knob and carrying
her inside.

She was going to kill him. Trace felt like
he’d explode from wanting Bailey. She was so honest in the way she
wanted him – not holding anything back – and it was sexier than
anything he’d ever felt. She clung to him and he felt the heat from
the tight V of her body radiate through him. He’d never survive
it.

When she bit his shoulder he almost dropped
her and took her right there on his front porch. His Bailey
deserved better. She deserved hours of screaming pleasure in a soft
bed before he let himself have her. But he was wound so tight, he
worried about even making it to his bed.

They had all night. They had all
night.
He kept repeating the words on a loop in his head.
Before morning came, he’d wring every ounce of pleasure from her
sweet body and fill her up all over again.

He kicked the door shut behind them and
carried her the few feet down the hall to his bedroom while she
tortured his neck with her hot little mouth.
Not. Going. To.
Survive.

When they reached the bed, they tumbled
forward and he braced himself to keep from crushing her with his
weight. She fell back, laughing, with her legs still hooked around
him, and he kissed her, swallowing her delighted cries. He gave
himself a moment to simply kiss her, his tongue teasing hers, his
breath mingling with hers and then he leaned back so he could see
Bailey – his Bailey – stretched out on his bed.

He’d dreamed of her like this so many times,
but he never thought it would happen. Her curls fanned his pillow
and her lips were red from his kisses. Heat flushed her face and
the soft skin of her neck and chest, but all he could look at was
the row of tiny buttons running down the front of her white lace
shirt. That and the tight points of her nipples clearly visible
under her shirt. With clumsy fingers, he opened the buttons one by
one, revealing inch after inch of creamy skin.

Her chest rose and fell faster with each
button he opened and by the time he flipped the clasp on the front
of her bra, she was clutching his arms, pulling him to her. He
wanted to tease her, to lick circles around her breasts, nipping at
the tender skin while he worked his way closer to the peak. But she
wouldn’t wait, arching her back and sliding a hand behind his neck
to tug his head to her nipple.

He gave in happily, suckling her hard,
relishing the sweet sensation of her flesh filling his mouth. He
pulled with rhythmic tugs, molding her nipple with his teeth and
tongue. Her back bowed and his cock swelled harder, knowing he was
the one giving her pleasure. He was the one holding her. Tasting
her.

He released her nipple, wet and straining
from his mouth and watched, fascinated, as it pebbled tight in the
cool air. By the time he repeated the process with her other
breast, she was making small needy noises and he was ready to come
out of his skin, he wanted her so much.

She reached between their bodies and popped
the button on his fly. Before he could protest she slipped her hot
little hand under the waistband of his boxers and wrapped her
fingers around his cock.

“Bailey, sweetheart, you’ve got to stop.” He
groaned as she started to stroke. “I want you so much. I won’t last
and I want to take my time with you.”

“No,” she said, tightening her hand around
his cock in a move which nearly undid him. “Not this time. I want
you now. Right now.”

She let go of him, sliding her hand out of
his pants and for a moment he thought he might be able to regain
control. But then she started to squirm underneath him, wriggling
out of her bra and shirt and it took every ounce of his control to
keep from grinding against her like a horny teenager. If she didn’t
stop it, he was going to lose it.

“Bailey,” he said, his voice strained.

“I don’t want to hear it, Campbell.” She
reached between them to pop the button on her jeans and then
shimmied them down her hips, exposing – sweet Jesus – white lace
panties which managed to be innocent and sexy as hell at the same
time. With his hips between her legs she couldn’t go any further
and she looked up at him, frustrated. “Help me,” she said, a quaver
in her voice and he got the distinct impression that she was
talking about more than just the jeans.

He climbed to his knees, grabbed the top of
her jeans and tugged them off her strong, shapely legs. Then he
looked down and saw Bailey stretched out on his bed, her dark curls
a halo on his pillow and her cheeks flushed, wearing nothing but a
scrap of white lace.

He swallowed. Hard. But it did little to
clear the tight feeling in his throat. She was so beautiful, so
perfect and she was laying there, hands over her breasts in a move
which was both modest and provocative, waiting for him to touch
her.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” he said, his
voice ragged.

She smiled at him, looking a little uncertain
and he bent to kiss her, a soft brush of his lips over hers. She
parted her lips, drawing him in and he followed, fitting his mouth
to hers. She tasted sweet and a little minty and he was starting to
lose himself in the kiss when she reached between them again and
started to tug at his zipper.

“Stop it,” he growled against her mouth. He
reached down to catch her wrists, raising them over her head and
pinning them with his hands.

“No,” she said, wriggling underneath his hips
and arching her back, pressing her breasts toward him. “Your turn.
Lose the pants, Campbell.” She lifted her head to nip at his bottom
lip and he groaned, certain now that if he died at least he’d die
happy.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he said
punctuating his words with kisses along her jaw and down her
throat.

“Why aren’t you?”

He wanted to explain now that he had her in
his bed, her pleasure was more important than his, but she looked
at him with eyes gone dark chocolate with hunger and did the one
thing he couldn’t resist.

“Please, Trace. Please. I need you now.”

Resigning himself to letting her set the
pace, at least this time, he let go of her hands. While he worked
on the zipper of his jeans, her small dexterous fingers popped the
buttons on his shirt. She sat up to push it off of his shoulders,
kissing his chest as she bared it. When her tongue flicked over his
nipple, he groaned and she laughed, nibbling the tight point with
her lips and teeth.

“That’s it,” he said, swatting her eager
hands away and standing. He let his jeans fall to the floor and
reached into the night stand for a condom.

He climbed onto the bed in time to see Bailey
wriggling out of her white lace panties. Bailey naked in his bed.
His cock was so hard it throbbed in time with the beat of his
heart, but he forced himself to stop. To drink in the sight of her.
Skin flushed, eyes dark, her rosy nipples tight peaks and the patch
of dark curls damp between her legs.

For as insistent as she’d been, now that they
were naked together, she seemed uncertain. Not shy exactly, they
knew each other too well for that, just not in charge anymore. He
reached out to run his finger through her damp curls, sighing when
he found her wet and ready for him. He stroked the slick seam of
her body and watched as her eyes drifted shut, heavily lidded with
desire.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice rough from
wanting her. “I need you to look at me when you come.” He rubbed
circles around her swollen clit and her back bowed but her eyes
stayed open, watching him as he touched her. He cupped her breast,
running his thumb over her nipple and her breath came in shallow
gasps.

“Now. Please. God. Now. Trace. So ready.”

She’d done him in. He should make them both
wait, make sure he saw to her pleasure first, but her pleading
tipped him over the edge. Sheathing himself, he held her hips,
angling her so the tip of his cock parted her swollen lips. He
looked down at her, her beautiful full mouth open and red from his
kisses, and he did what he’d wanted to do since almost the moment
he met her.

With one hard thrust, he was inside her. She
gasped and he froze, not sure how to process what he’d felt.

“God no, Bailey,” he said, the need to move
making his voice tight. What Spencer had said about helping her
with a problem flooded his brain. “Are you? Were you?” He couldn’t
seem to make the words make sense, finally settling on, “Why didn’t
you tell me?”

This was not happening to her again. Trace
pulled out of her and she fought to keep from wincing. She wasn’t
going to give him another reason to look at her with pity. And she
wasn’t in pain – not physically at least. She’d wanted him so much,
had been so ready for him. The initial thrust was something but she
knew it would have felt good if he’d kept moving. Having his weight
on top of her, his body inside hers, for a moment it felt like
coming home.

And then he’d pulled out of her and started
asking questions. Weren’t men supposed to just be interested in
sex? So why was it so damn hard to find one to have sex with
her?

It didn’t matter anymore. It was over. It
might not have ended the way she’d dreamed it would but at least it
was done. A bitter consolation, considering how happy she’d been
moments earlier. She pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes
to stop her tears. Not going to cry. Not here, no way. Desperate to
get away from the whole embarrassing situation, she scrambled away
from him.

Seeing her move must have unstuck Trace
because he reached for her, grabbing her arm before she made it out
of the bed.

“Bailey, sweetheart, did I hurt you?” His
gaze searched her face, but it was with concern not passion and it
pissed her off.

“I’m fine,” she lied, yanking her arm
free.

“Wait,” he said, but she didn’t.

She grabbed fistfuls of discarded clothes,
determined not to let him see how embarrassed and vulnerable she
felt. Ignoring his protests, she slammed the bathroom door behind
her and dropped the clothes onto the countertop of the small
vanity. Shirt, jeans, bra, no panties.

Perfect.

There was no way in hell she was going back
into that bedroom until she was dressed. She put on her bra and
blouse, buttoning the tiny buttons that Trace had just unbuttoned,
and tried not to be bitter. She slipped her jeans on over her still
sensitive sex and winced as the ridge of denim rubbed against her
swollen clit. Pity her body hadn’t gotten the message as fast as
her brain. No orgasm tonight.

She looked at herself in the mirror. If she
smoothed out her scowl, she looked pretty damn good. Her hair was a
riot of sexy, tousled curls and her cheeks flushed rose against her
pale skin. Her eyes were dark and animated and her lips were still
full and red from Trace’s kisses. And she was no longer a virgin.
It was a pretty pathetic attempt at making lemonade, but it was the
best she seemed able to do at the moment.

At least she looked good enough that he might
regret stopping. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the bathroom
door and went out. Trace sat on the end of the bed wearing nothing
but his jeans. They were unbuttoned at the waist, revealing the
line of dark hair running down his stomach.

God he really was gorgeous, his skin tan and
his back and shoulders strong from all the hours spent working
outside. His bare feet looked long and pale against the hardwood
floor. Bailey stared everywhere except at his face, shielding
herself from the pity she was sure she’d see there.

“Can you give me a ride back up the
mountain?” she asked, slipping into her sandals, still avoiding his
eyes.

“Not a chance,” he said. “Bailey, please come
here. Let’s talk about this.”

Yeah, like there was any way in hell that was
going to happen. She was done having uncomfortable conversations
with men about her sexual status. She’d slammed the door on that
particularly awkward chapter of her life. The next time she got
naked with someone – even as she had the thought, her heart twisted
and tears pricked her eyes. It was supposed to be Trace.

That wasn’t going to happen. Time to move
on.

She turned toward the door determined to get
out of there before she made an even bigger fool of herself and
cried in front of him. Her gaze caught on the keys tossed on the
corner of the dresser.